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Life Chronicle #1

Picture credit: Pixabay

My best friend and I were separated for six years. His parents got divorced and his mother had the custody of him and his baby brother. As long as I remember, I was asking my mother every year when I would see him again, why he was not coming for my birthday nor for our usual Christmas party. Every time, my mother looked at me and said we would meet again, one day.

I only had my memory to remember him. Our days to play hide and seek, to annoy his brother and my sister. Our bath times, our movie nights cuddling. Our first time at the movie theater to see Finding Nemo!

Long short story, six years passed and I moved in another city. Closer to my family, his dad, and without knowing it, him. It was my mother who saw him again first. She gave him my name on social media and told him to find me.

When he did, it was like we never stopped talking.

My best friend and I had a strong relationship. That kind of connection you cannot describe. I was seven years old and he was six. A lot of things happen when you get into the adolescence and still, it was like he never ever left my side.

Times flied, we hung out. We had those four hour phone long night conversations, those concerts with our favorite band, those nights to sing out loud our lungs while he played the guitar.

It all changed when he got into trouble. His mother was forced to send him away, for his good. Then he changed. I made it my duty to save him, to bring him back to the guy I loved with all my soul.

I know it might sound crazy. Back then I was 14 years old. How can a 14-year-old-girl know about love, uh? However, he and I had that kind of love; the kind of love indescribable, that you are too young to deal with, to understand, and to assume.

I got myself sick trying to search for him, and he was escaping. Still, I was finding him way before his mother and the cops would, because without talking to him, I knew where he was, who to ask for it, and how to bring him back.

Two years passed and my great grandmother died. Part of the family, he came to offer his sympathy and I never felt so whole before. He held me in his arms and I was flying. I truly was, I couldn't believe he was here, with me, for good.

Then, we made the huge mistake.

We dated.

It lasted seven months and they were hellish months.

The guy I used to know: loving, caring, patient, and honest became his acting. He was so ashamed of what he became that he lied, scared of letting me down. I gave my all for him and he did for me. That connection we shared, that chemical love we couldn't understand just burned us down to exhaustion and sadness.

We broke up and took a different path. It has been around two years and a half that I haven't heard from him.

Today, I realize how much we were young and stupid. We hurt each other in what we thought was the right kind of love.

We loved each other, but in the wrong way. He was the guy I could get back to, no matter what. He had that way to make me smile, laugh, and sing. He was me and I was him, but I was too mad and proud to say "I miss you and the strings."

I miss our music nights, I miss the way he believed in me and my dreams. He saw beauty and potential in me when I didn't. He was my why and my reason. And now he feels like a goodbye.

I probably provoked this. I don't miss the lover. We were not meant to be.

I miss my partner and his voice to mine.

And how naïve is it to believe he might one day read this?

If by any miracle, you do: Hi?

Read next: The Red Notebook
Em 's
Em 's

I believe that it is better to live with remorses than regrets. 

So here I am, writting about my thoughts. Maybe I could help someone find themselves in my words. 

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